


Additional Experience

by Diary



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Pass, Declarations Of Love, Family, Female Protagonist, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gilly/Samwell Tarly Get Married, Handfasting, Holding Hands, Insecurity, Jealously, Late Night Conversations, Morally Ambiguous Character, Oaths & Vows, POV Female Character, POV Gilly (ASoIaF), Past Child Abuse, Past Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: “In the future, we need to talk about this sort of thing when it happens, not years down the line.” Complete.





	Additional Experience

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones.

Adultery is a crime in the land of the crows, though, many men are able to safely do it.

There’s a new man at the wall, and he wasn’t. Despite being a lord, his good father took exception to him straying from his marriage bed and petitioned Sam’s father to do something, and Sam’s father had offered the choice of gelding or going to the wall. Either way, the man’s marriage would end up annulled, and the woman would marry someone her father thought would be faithful to her.

Shelling a bowl of peas, Gilly listens to Sam, Jon Snow, and Pyp talk about this new man.

“He’s going to be a ranger, Sam,” Jon Snow points out.

“This is my father’s newest way of trying to kill me,” Sam mutters.

She hopes he doesn’t really believe this. If he does, there’s a good chance it might be true, and she isn’t sure what this will mean for her and baby Sam. She’s unlikely to be able to protect Sam, and what if this man decides to go after her and her baby because of how close they are to Sam?

“What made this father so important to yours?” Pyp asks. “Surely, he wouldn’t punish someone who does what all men do.”

“He would,” Sam says. “And not all men do. My father’s one of them. He’s never been unfaithful to my mother, and despite how manly he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the only one ever.”

She smiles.

“Still, though, he’s a rarity. If it weren’t so important to know who the father is, we’d be more like the wildlings; there’d be no requirement of fidelity in marriage.”

Jon Snow makes a disbelieving sound. “Trust me, even with wildlings, if a person’s unfaithful, there’s a good chance they’ll pay. In fact, there’s a better chance of them paying than most of us, our newest brother excluded.”

With Craster, she knew what would have happened to any man who touched her or her sisters, but none of them were ever sure what might happen to them if they were touched, especially if they willingly let themselves be. Sam’s never said anything about what he’d do, but like with Craster, she has no desire to touch or be touched by any man.

Being touched by him might- she doesn’t fear or dread the thought, but he promised her once he’d never touch her in such a way, and sometimes, she considers telling him she wouldn’t mind if he did.

“And if you were married, you’d be the same,” Pyp declares.

“Don’t be so sure.”

Startled, she looks up from the bowl.

Pyp gives Sam a look she isn’t sure what to make of.

“I’d never force a woman,” Sam continues. “But if another woman besides my wife wanted me-” He shrugs. “Limiting yourself to one person for the rest of your life, only the very disciplined or the largely uninterested can claim that. It’s the same with both men and women. It’s just much more dangerous and harder to get away with for women.”

“If you love someone, it’s a sacrifice- no, if you love someone, it shouldn’t even be a sacrifice. My father was a good man. He only ever strayed once, but I can understand my stepmother’s anger and hurt. If you love someone, there are certain things you should only do and share with them.”

She rarely agrees with Jon Snow on anything, but here, he’s saying what she’d expected Sam to say.

“Men and women both have urges, strong urges, to be with more than one person,” Sam says. “Loving someone doesn’t make those urges disappear, no matter what some people would like to believe. In a way, I agree with you, Jon.”

“Loving someone means you want to share the most important parts of you, the parts you wouldn’t dare share with anyone else, with them. But sex- it’s not that important, in comparison. It’s something almost everyone wants. It’s easy enough to do. You don’t have to know a person’s name or even what they look like to be with someone in such a way. There are far more intimate parts of yourself that you can share besides your body.”

Feeling angry and hurt, she goes back to shelling the peas.

She can’t argue against his words, she knows. She imagines they’re ones Craster would agree with, but this isn’t what makes her skin itch. Even if Sam did touch her, he could touch others, too. She knows he’s a virgin, but he could touch someone else and never touch her.

No one, least of all him, seems to understand she has some rights to him. He took her and her baby from her father, from her husband’s, home, and now she’s both widow and orphan. She’ll do what he wants, she’ll try to do it without complaint, but he can’t just send her on her way or give her to someone else.

This doesn’t give her the right to say he can’t touch others, she knows. If she puts aside her feelings, she can see he does have a point. What Craster did with her and her sisters, it wasn’t about love or even closeness. It made him feel good, and she and the others were allowed food, a warm place to sleep, and his protection in return.

Sam trusted her with his mother’s thimble. He tells her things he doesn’t even tell Jon Snow. He loves baby Sam, and despite not fully understanding what he did when he took them, he fought to keep them here with him, because, he wants them safe and nearby.

She finds herself wondering, if he could marry, would he want to marry her? All the crows here think her nothing but a whore due to the fact their laws say a man can’t marry his daughters, but she’s not sure if he does, too. If he does, it doesn’t stop him from liking her.

All the crows, including him, if he does, are wrong. She was a virgin until the day she married, she never committed adultery, and now, she’s a widow. She’s been with no man but Craster, and she’d only let Sam touch her. He’s the one who took her.

The thought of him being able to marry and choosing someone else hurts. She never questioned the fact Craster had others, and aside from vague sorrow her sisters had to go through what she did when they got old enough, she didn’t have any feelings one way or the other about it. Sam would have that right, however, to take a wife despite having her. The laws against adultery likely wouldn’t even apply if he continued to never touch her.

…

She now knows why Craster was so against men touching her and her sisters.

It wasn’t just because they were his. It’s also because he couldn’t handle having them know there were men better than him. If any of the other night crows are like Sam, her sisters would have wanted them more than Craster, and most of her sisters didn’t particularly want Craster in such a way to begin with.

She just wishes her time with Craster had better prepared her. Sam’s not a virgin, now, and he’s happy with what happened.

What if he starts trying to find other women? She knows her only hope is making it so good he won’t feel any urges for others, but she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t even know if she was good for him this time, or if he’s just happy to finally not be a virgin.

“What are you thinking?”

His voice is sleep-roughened, and he gently pulls her closer against him.

 _That I’d really like to steal you the way you stole me_ , wouldn’t be the best answer to give right now, she knows.

“That I’m yours, and you’re mine, now and forever,” she answers. Leaning up, she presses her lips against his for a few seconds.

Letting out a soft sigh, he winces as he readjusts himself, and she wonders if she should sleep on the floor. She and baby Sam won’t go back to being in a room without him, but he shouldn’t have to share his bed if he doesn’t want to or it’s not comfortable for him. Baby Sam’s safe and comfortable in the drawer she put a pillow in, and with a pillow and maybe some furs-

“Gilly-”

She waits.

If he’s decided he doesn’t want her and baby Sam anymore, she will calmly explain- No, she’ll probably wake the whole castle, she’s forced to admit. She can’t beat him with anything, not after he got hurt protecting her, but she can and will yell. She can label him an oathbreaker. Pyp’s dead, and whether Jon Snow comes back or not, he might not take her side against Sam’s, but the gods know Sam has promised, ‘Where you go, I go,’ and, ‘Where I go, you go.’

“I love you.”

She supposes she loves him, too, but saying it- “Then, remember that it’s always going to be the three of us. At least, until little Sam grows and decides to leave. I won’t have him taking the black.”

One of his hands finds hers, and he gently slides his fingers through hers.

Curling hers more securely around his, she closes her eyes, listens to his and baby Sam’s breathing, and counts the number of times she feels his stomach rise and fall.

…

She likes Oldtown, but she’s uneasy about the fact so many of the women she meets look so different from her. Some of them, she doesn’t think the men at the wall would think pretty, but some of them, there’s no doubt they’re anything but. Pretty or not, though, the fact they’re different- if Sam gets bored with her, he’ll have no trouble finding a willing woman or more.

There’s absolutely no women allowed in the Citadel, but who would tell her if women not her were secretly allowed in?      

It frustrates her, she’ll privately admit.

There are other men, men who treat her better than any at the wall did, and if she wanted one, she could likely let them have her without getting caught, but none of them are Sam. Besides, if she did get caught, Sam wouldn’t kill her, and she knows he’d never do anything to hurt little Sam, no matter how he felt about her, but he could turn her away completely. She’d have given up any rights she had to him.

Soon after the first time, Sam did things with his fingers and mouth, and if not for a pillow, she would have scared everyone with how loud her response was.

Despite the pillow, she’s not sure Jon Snow didn’t have some idea; the way he’d looked at her and Sam one morning was a mixture of amused and exasperated, and most of the exasperation was directed towards her.

Sam had been happy when she’d completely undressed for him to see her, but he’d been odd about her request he let her see him fully. Eventually, he had, but he’d kept looking at her almost as if he were scared.

She never paid attention to Craster’s body, but if she had, she knows it’s another way he would have been lacking in comparison to Sam. He was strong, but he had no gentleness. For all Sam is gentle, how strong he is a still a bit surprising. He has creases and curves to his body she loves to trace and dip her fingers over and inside.

She’s learning how to use her fingers and mouth, too, but she wonders if it’ll be enough, or if other women are going to get to see his bare body, too. They might be different, but it’s unlikely they’d know right away which spots make him gasp, where he’s ticklish, and what kind of pressure to apply to different parts of him.

At night, when he reads to little Sam and she’s curled up next to him, when he turns off the lamps and wraps an arm around her and their son, she tells herself, it won’t matter if he has some fun with another woman. He might not even know her name, it might be quick, and most importantly, it’s her he lets sleep in his bed pressed against him. It’s her he took from the keep, it’s her and little Sam he killed a White Walker for, it’s her he fought men to keep from touching her, and it’s her who took his virginity. It’s her son who has his name.

…

Sometimes, she can’t fight the thought: Jon Snow just might find a way to get him released from the black. With his father and Dickon dead, he’d give up his dreams of being a maester and take his rightful place as head of House Tarly.

If this happens, he might marry some highborn lady, and if this woman gives him a trueborn child, especially a boy-

All she knows is, as much as she’d hate it, she wouldn’t be above begging him, begging the woman, begging anyone who might be able and willing to help to not have the boy named Samwell or Sam.

Little Sam isn’t his blood, but he calls Sam ‘Papa’. She wants him to grow up to have all of Sam’s good traits. Sam’s promised Heartsbane will be little Sam’s when he’s all grown, but she doesn’t care about this so much. Swords are common, and even rare ones aren’t that important by themselves except for sentimental value.

But the name of Sam is the one thing her son does have connecting him to his father. He’ll never be a Tarly, aside from some books and possibly Heartsbane, he’ll never get anything Sam has rights to as a Tarly, and after she and Sam stole Heartsbane, his mother might easily forgive Sam, but she’s always going to think bad things about Gilly. Little Sam won’t even have Sam’s family thinking good things about his (little Sam’s) mother.

Annulments are always in her head when these thoughts come. She knows Sam would never, ever set aside any rightful wife of his.

She’s not his wife. If a number of things hadn’t happened to lead up to it, he might never have even touched her. Almost as soon as they got to the wall, he was leaving her and baby Sam in a whorehouse. Then, he wanted to leave them in his parents’ house. Now, he seems to have accepted-

The problem is, she doesn’t want him being with her to be something he simply accepts. She wants him to want her and to be with her. She wants to be enough for him.

…

“Sam’s going to love Winterfell,” he says.

“What’s it like?”

“Well, I’ve never been there, but from what Jon’s told me…”

Just don’t try to leave us there, is her resigned thought.

Jon Snow would be kinder than Sam’s father, and he’d keep them safe, but he isn’t her king. He isn’t her friend. She’s grateful for him being Sam’s, but this is where her good feelings for him end.

Everyone from other crows to the Free Folk themselves had told him not to betray a free woman after he’d pledged himself to her, and he’d gone and done it anyway. What had he expected to happen?

If she’d known the full story, she could have told Sam, ‘She and the others will be coming soon.’

Now, a red witch has brought him back to life, and she isn’t sure what she thinks and feels about this. She’s happy about the fact Lord Stark was never unfaithful to his wife, and she knows he will be, too, but she isn’t sure how he’ll feel knowing Lord Stark isn’t his blood father and lied to him all his life.

“Gilly,” he nudges her.

She looks over.

“I know all this moving around is hard, but I promise, as soon as the war’s over, the three of us are going to find one place and stay. Little Sam will have friends, a safe place to play, and soon enough, his own room. We’ll be able to watch him grow.”

Smiling, she says, “Just promise me you aren’t going to die.”

“I promise I’m always going to try my best to come back to you and him.”

…

As soon as they get to Winterfell, Sam goes off to talk to Bran Stark, and a serving girl leads her to a room. “And your son’s room-”

“No. He still sleeps with us. Or just me, now.”

The girl nods. “I’ll show you where Lord Tarly’s room is, then.”

“Thank you.”

He’s not a lord right now, she doesn’t say. He might be again soon, but right now, he still can’t marry anyone. He can’t give out expensive trinkets to people who make him happy, and he can’t decide what happens to people like his father did.

This serving girl, she is still truly a girl, and Sam would probably think of his sisters when he looks at her, but there are probably older serving women who’d like to be with a visiting lord. Worse, they might realise how he’s so much more than just a lord, and they might find themselves wanting what she has.

…

After she and little Sam are settled in her room, bigger than the small room she and Sam rented in Oldtown, there’s a knock on the door.

She sighs.

Little Sam had been hungry, but someone had put a bowl of fruit and a pitcher of spiced honey water in the room. This along with the little bit of hard bread and dried meat they’d still had left from the journey had been enough to fill his belly.

Now, she’s hungry, tired, and if Sam comes in talking about Bran Stark, the history of Winterfell, or anything else she doesn’t have any interest in at this moment-

Opening the door, she finds Sansa Stark, and curtseying, she greets, “M’lady.”

“Hello,” Lady Sansa greets with a cautious smile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to properly address you.”

It takes a few seconds for her to understand. “Oh, I’m just Gilly, m’lady. We didn’t have many titles where I came from.”

She’s sure some people think her a bastard as well as a whore, but whichever of her sisters was her mother, she was married to Craster, too. He never bedded any of them before marrying them.

“I just realised no one was here to greet you and my brother’s sworn brother properly. I apologise for that. Have you and your son eaten?”

“Sam has,” she answers. “Little Sam, I mean. I don’t know about Sam.”

“Would you like to have some food brought to you, or would you like to see the kitchens? Most of the servants have retired for the night, but there’s always food for late arrivals.”

“Whichever would be easier for you, m’lady,” she answers.

Little Sam wanders over.

Kneeling down, Lady Sansa smiles. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he repeats. “I’m Sam.”

“This is Lady Sansa Stark. She’s Jon Snow’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Lady." He plays with her hair. “Pwetty.”

Quickly picking him up, she hopes Lady Sansa isn’t offended. She doesn’t think Jon Snow would let them be thrown out, but just as Randyll Tarly could have, Lady Sansa could make their stay miserable.

However, Lady Sansa has a small, warm smile as she stands. “Thank you. Would you like to go for a walk with your mother and I to the kitchens?”

He starts excitedly babbling.

…

“Was your trip here comfortable?”

“We’re here now, m’lady. That’s all that matters.”

Sam handled the boat better this time, but it wasn’t a good trip. Little Sam scared them half to death by crawling up where the flags were, her tansy tea had spilled before she could drink some, but thank the gods, her bleeding came shortly after, and there’d been an outbreak of diarrhoea throughout the whole ship.

She’s seen Sam at his worst, now, he’s seen her at hers, and thankfully, they both still want each other. Little Sam might be too young to remember, but this might prepare him for when they annoy him when he’s older.

Looking over, she sees Lady Sansa is searching her mind for something to talk about, and she feels a sense of pity. Most of her sisters didn’t understand her, aside from Jon Snow and Maester Aemon, she never had a simple conversation with any of the crows at the wall, and even with Sam, it took time for them to be able to talk comfortably with one another. Princess Shireen was nice to talk to, but Sam was usually involved in those conversations.

“What should I start with tomorrow, m’lady? In Oldtown, I worked in a pub, but at the wall, I usually helped with preparing food. At my father’s keep, I usually kept things clean both inside and in the stables. I bred rabbits, and I was always in charge of caring and cleaning up after them.”

“What?” Lady Sansa gives her an odd look. “Oh! Gilly, you’re a guest, not a servant. You, your son, and Samwell Tarly are all guests.”

“Thank you, m’lady.”

“You bred rabbits?”

“Yes. Rabbit meat by itself isn’t good, but during the winters, it was one of the few meats we had that wasn’t too risky trying to get, and the fur and skin made good gloves, socks, and hats, especially for the babies. I just had to keep them from freezing to death and making too much of a mess inside. During the summers, I’d use them for bait.”

“Do you know the difference between hares and rabbits? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rabbit. We only have hares around here, and I’m not sure what they had in King’s Landing.”

“Yes. At the wall, they had both. I tried breeding them together, but that didn’t work. Are there any hares nearby that I could catch? Or do you have any pictures of them? It’d be easier to explain if I could point and show you certain things.”

“I don’t know. I’ll see what the gamekeeper says, and I’ll talk to one of the maesters about animal diagrapms.”

“If neither works, I’ll try just explaining,” she says.

“Thank you.”

She nods. “I’ve had enough to eat, thank you, and so has,” she hugs the sleeping Sam in her lap, “this one.”

“I’ll walk you back to your room. Would you like a bed moved in for him?”

“Right now, he’s fine sleeping with me, but thank you for offering, m’lady.”

…

When they get to the room, she wishes she’d just slipped inside and closed the door.

Lying on the bed in his nightgown is Sam.

She’s happy he’s here and will be sleeping with her, but from what Jon Snow’s said, Lady Sansa is somewhat prim and pious. Never mind the fact he’s not properly dressed, the fact she and Sam arrived together and, assuming Jon Snow hasn’t told Lady Sansa the truth, the fact they have a baby together might be tolerable, but them being together in such a way or even just an unmarried man and woman sharing a bed under the Stark family roof-

“I’ll have someone bring some food in case he’s hungry later in the night,” Lady Sansa quietly says. Leaning over, she kisses little Sam’s forehead. “Goodnight, Gilly.”

“Goodnight, m’lady.”

…

In the morning, she wakes up early, leaves little Sam with Sam, and goes to the kitchens.

None of the servants are exactly sure where she came from, but they accept her and put her to work quickly enough.

Sometime midmorning, Lady Sansa appears. Giving a smile Gilly’s not sure how to interpret, she says, “If you insist on working, let’s see how you do as a handmaid. It’s been a long time since I had one.”

“Yes, m’lady.” She follows. “But I need to check on Sam for lunch and dinner. Or is it dinner and supper? I’m sorry, I can never remember. He’ll break his fast with our son, but sometimes, he can put off eating the other two.”

Others at the wall, including Pyp, often teased him about how big he is, and some of them went beyond teasing and were just as bad as his father.

She thinks this might play a bigger part than he’s willing to admit, and she wishes she could change this.

None of them were there out beyond the wall, pressed against his warm, pliant body with his strong arms wrapped around. She’d want him even if he suddenly wasn’t round and she couldn’t curve her fingers underneath his skin and watch them disappear, but she isn’t going to let him go through life hungry.

Some people are just naturally big or small, just like some people are tall and others short, and some people, no matter how big or small, simply aren’t fighters. He’s smart, and it’s most important he stay healthy by eating what he needs.

“Of course,” Lady Sansa pleasantly agrees. “Forgive me if this is intrusive, but do you have any family besides him and your son?”

“Not that I know where are, m’lady. My father was a cruel man. Some of the night watchmen were staying at his keep, and a mutiny broke out. Sam got me away, and we took the long way back to the wall. Your brother told me most of my sisters survived, and they went their own way. I still think of them sometimes and pray the gods keep them safe and grant them long life, but I don’t miss them.”

…

The rooms that were supposed to be for Sam and little Sam sit ready for any other guests. Everyone knows the three share the room she was led to on her first day, and no one cares.

One day, a small bed, the perfect size for little Sam, appears inside, and he happily takes to it.

Every day, she gets up, helps Lady Sansa dress, and follows her around.

“Do you have a head for figures?”

Gilly simply looks at her.

“Numbers and money.”

“No. I’ve learned Westori money, and I can usually barter with people, but I’m no good at maths, m’lady.”

Laughing softly, Lady Sansa says, “We’re in good company, then. I’ve never been good at household accounts and the like. Now that Arya’s come back, she’s keeping our steward honest. Let’s visit them today.”

…

They get news the wall has fallen.

Lying with him in bed, she asks, “Are you alright?”

“I just- nothing like this was ever supposed to happen.”

Even now, she finds she can’t bring herself to be truly thankful towards Jon Snow. He let her and baby Sam stay at the wall (after the wildling he wronged only spared her because she was lucky enough to be holding baby Sam), he sent Sam to the Citadel, and then, he let the three of them stay at Winterfell. If not for him, they might all be dead along with the hundreds of others.

He’s allied with the dragon queen who killed Randyll and Dickon Tarly. She can’t bring herself to feel any sadness for the former, but as a free folk, the idea of someone being burned because they wouldn’t kneel- especially Sam’s little brother. He was more-or-less just there, he didn’t have his brother’s big brain, but he was harmless enough.

It was her dead dragon that brought down the wall, and from what she understands, the dragon is only dead because some plan of his ended up with him needing to be rescued.

Of course, Sam is going to insist on fighting the dead, as if her brothers being killed and the three of them being almost killed more than once wasn’t enough.

Maester Aemon once told her that her baby’s best bet would be to thank Sam, take her baby, and make her own way South.

Part of her wishes she could. Dorne, the Iron Islands, she could make her way anywhere and do what she needed to take care of little Sam. It wouldn’t be easy, but her life has never been easy.

“What about you?”

“What about me,” she asks.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry all those men died. I’m scared, Sam.”

He tightens his arms around her. “I am, too.”

But I’m also yours, she grimly thinks. I can’t look our son in the eye one day and tell him that I took him away from his father and left him to die. Neither he or the gods would ever forgive me.

She couldn’t forgive herself, either.

She’ll just have to do all she can to keep her son and Sam alive and pray every night that the gods won’t take her right now, that she’ll be able to live and grow old with her family.

…

Despite the wall falling, life continues largely unchanged at Winterfell. A maester starts teaching little Sam and a handful of other children, and she keeps learning all sorts of different things as a handmaid. She learns etiquette, what the newest fashions are, how a lady is supposed to deal with servants and guests, and how servants and guests are supposed to act.

Jon Snow comes back, and thankfully, doesn’t bring the dragon queen with him.

Then, Sam announces, “My mother is coming.”

…

Lady Melessa arrives dressed all in black with sad eyes.

Before Gilly can greet her, she touches Gilly’s cheek. “Thank the gods you and our Sams are all safe.”

Seeing little Sam playing nearby, she kneels in front of him. “Hello, little one. You may not remember me, but I’m your grandmother.”

“Hello, Lady Grandmother,” he says. “Are you Papa’s Mama?”

A soft smile crosses her face, and she looks at him with proud eyes. “Yes. You’re such a clever little boy, just like your papa always was.”

…

Leaving little Sam with Ser Pod, she takes Lady Melessa for a walk around Winterfell. “I’m sorry for your losses, m’lady.”

Squeezing her hand, Lady Melessa sighs. “I knew Randyll was a soldier when I married him. This will likely surprise you, but we were a love match.”

Hoping her slight smile hides any grimaces, she politely nods.

She doesn’t particularly believe in love matches, but why anyone would fall in love and willingly choose to marry a man such as Randyll Tarly-      

“Dickon was his boy,” Melessa continues. “I resigned myself to the possibility of losing them both long ago. As for Sam- I don’t know much about the Free Folk, my sweet one, but I did what I thought I could at the time. It can be a delicate balance, being a good wife and a good mother, and when you have more than one child, it can be even harder.”

In a way, she can understand. For all she prayed for a girl, she dreaded the day Craster smacked her child, made her cry, and worse of all, the day her girl would become a wife.

“On that subject, I don’t mean to pry or be indelicate, but- You and Sam only have little Sam.”

Hearing the question Lady Melessa desperately doesn’t want to voice out loud, she says, “I drink moon tea, m’lady.”

She can see the relief her answer causes.

Stopping, she says, “M’lady, we didn’t plan for me to get pregnant, but we didn’t think to try to stop it, either. I didn’t have little Sam to get anything out of your son. My father was cruel, and Sam saved me from him. He was my friend, the first true friend I’ve ever had, before anything happened.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I never thought anything like that,” Lady Melessa assures her. “I only asked, because, after this war is over, I’m hoping, perhaps, Sam will give me more grandchildren. My daughters’ children are lovely, and so is little Sam. But I’d be so happy to have even more from all three of them. Dickon- it’s better he wasn’t married. Leaving a widow and children too small to remember him isn’t something I’d wish on any woman and especially not on any grandchildren of mine.”

They resume walking.

“If Sam could marry you, would you like that?”

“If he thinks it best,” she answers.

A brief frown crosses Lady Melessa’s face, but shaking it away, she clasps her fingers through Gilly’s and links their arms. “Should we go try to find him?”

“Yes, that would be good. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

…

“Mama, look.”

After a little time, it turned out she was better at figures than she’d thought, and looking up from the list of supplies House Stark needs, she sees little Sam holding up a tooth with a confused look on his face.

Fear goes through her, and kneeling down, she checks him for blood and looks around to see what he could have hit or what could have hit him.

Then, she remembers children lose milk teeth and grow new ones.

“It’s alright, Sam. Children lose their teeth and grow new ones when they’re getting to be big boys and girls. When a new one grows, you need to be careful not to lose it, because, it won’t grow back, but this one’s fine.”

He beams.

“Do you want to find Papa and show him?”

“Yes, please.”

She starts to pick him up, but he backs away. “No! I’m a big boy, now.”

“You’re getting to be a big boy,” she corrects. “You’re not there just yet. And even when you’re all grown, part of you is always going to be Mama and Papa’s precious baby boy.”

Standing up fully, she offers her hand.

He takes it.

They go to the great hall, and she automatically tugs little Sam back when she sees-

Sam, Lady Sansa, and some others are talking, but Sam and Lady Sansa are smiling at one another in such a way she feels hurt and jealously burning just seeing them.

Jon Snow might approve of such a match, she knows, and Lady Sansa would be a good wife to him. She’s more suitable.

She kneels down. “Papa’s in an important meeting right now. Why don’t we go show Ser Pod?”

Little Sam gives her a searching look, but thankfully, he simply gives a quiet, “Alright.”

…

In the godswood, she closes her eyes.

“I know he’s yours.”

Opening her eyes, she turns to see Lady Sansa standing nearby.

“I’m his,” she replies.

She could lie, she realises. She could make Lady Sansa think she had a real claim to Sam, but she’s not a liar. He took both her and little Sam from Craster’s, and then, he took little Sam’s mother to bed, and rather than killing her baby, he’s called himself his father. Blood might be the most important to crows and even with Craster, but with other Free Folk, all that makes Sam her son’s father.

This isn’t the land of the Free Folk, and Sam isn’t one of them. Just because he stole her, it doesn’t mean she can or even should steal him.

Lady Sansa studies her, and then, sits down. “I’ve been wed twice, and though my first husband was decent, I was relieved to have our marriage annulled. Gods judge me, but I’m happy to be a widow. Jon’s promised I’ll never have to marry, if I don’t wish it, and if I do, I’m free to choose my own husband. No doubt Brother Tarly would make a fine husband, but I want no husband.”

Relief flows through her.

“You’re his, but he’s not yours?”

There’s something besides curiosity in the tone, but she isn’t sure what it is.

“No. Or not- I have the most important parts of him.”

“I’ve been someone’s who wasn’t mine. Three times. Even with Lord Tyrion, it wasn’t a good thing.”

“It’s not like that,” she hurriedly says. “I want to be with him, I want to be his. But he’s a man, he’s going to feel urges eventually and get the opportunity, and I know, if he becomes a lord again, he’ll likely end up marrying someone like you, m’lady. Probably a virgin, but even a respectable widow like you or someone who had her marriage annulled. But she’ll be true and highborn and know how to be a good Southern wife.”

Lady Sansa takes her hand.

…

“Papa, why I lose the teeth?”

“Well, when babies get bigger, they grow milk teeth. They help them be able to talk and eat regular food. Then, when it’s time, they start to come out so that permanent teeth can take their place. You see permanent teeth are already underneath…”

Watching and listening to them talk, she suddenly wishes Sam had come to the keep before she was pregnant. She wishes she would have done what she knows she never would have and bedded him then.

“And your Mama and I are going to keep all your milk teeth safe for you. Someday, if you have children, you can show them to them.”

“Do you and Mama have milk teeth to show me?”

“Um, no. You see, neither of your grandfathers cared about that sort of thing. But that’s okay. Your grandmother was happy to see it, and she’s happy we’re going to keep them safe for you.”

“Why do you and Mama care?”

“Because, we love you more than anything and anyone, my little lad. Do you want to hear the story of how Papa killed a White Walker to protect you and Mama again?”

As if little Sam would have any other response than, “Yes, please!” as he crawls onto Sam’s lap.

…

One night when little Sam is having dinner with Sers Brienne and Pod, she and Sam eat in their room, and he says, “Jon needs more reinforcements in the Reach. He wants me to take my place as Lord of Horn Hill.”

“When do we leave?”

“Probably in a fortnight. Gilly, I was thinking- how do you feel about marriage?”

She already doesn’t like where this is going.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you ever thought about getting married? I mean, besides what Craster did to you and your sisters, have you ever thought about marrying someone else?”

“You weren’t allowed to marry when the wall was still standing.”

He gives her such a soft look, he looks as young as he did when they first met. “That’s- does that mean you’d want to marry me?”

“If you think it best.”

Just like his mother, he frowns, but it doesn’t go away. “Gilly- we need to, that is, we need to talk about it beyond that. I wouldn’t marry you if you didn’t want it. You know that.”

This is one of those moments, she realises. All the time she spent secretly hoping she and Sam could marry, but even then, she knew it wasn’t all that she wanted.

If they get married, he’ll never be able to put her aside. She could give him not only children of his blood but trueborn ones. It’s one way she could have him that no other woman ever could, at least, not as long as she’s still alive.

It won’t guarantee she’ll never see him looking at some other woman the way he’s looked at her. It won’t keep him from making some other woman have to bite down on a pillow and lie shaky afterwards. It won’t keep some other woman from touching all the places only she’s touched.

“It might change things for others, but it won’t change things for us,” she says. “If you think it’s a good idea, I trust you, Sam. I wouldn’t mind. If you don’t, we shouldn’t. You know better than me how the others would take it.”

His frown lessens but doesn’t completely go away. “That’s true, I suppose. Except- marriage would change things, Gilly.”

“How?”

“Well-”

She waits.

“I know in many cases, most, probably, it’s not, but ideally, marriage should be about love.”

“You love me and little Sam.”

“Yes, but- Do you- What I mean is, it should be two people, in love with one another, who truly mean all the vows they say. Who want to spend the rest of their lives with no one but that person.”

“We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together,” she points out. “And breaking vows doesn’t always make you a bad person. You let people think you broke your vows by having Sam with me. And,” she can’t help but smile, “it doesn’t matter how hard you argue, you know that the wording meant you weren’t supposed to bed any women.”

Chuckling, he nods, and the way he looks at her makes her lean over and kiss him.

“Still, though- Aside from Craster, I’m the only man you’ve ever gotten to know on a deeply personal level. I just worry, sometimes, that someday, you’re going to find yourself wanting someone else.”

“And I’m the only woman you’ve ever been with. I’m not going to let anyone else touch me, Sam, and if you want to touch other women, I’m not going to make a fuss about it.”

She doesn’t expect the sudden dark look he gives her. “What? Do you- are you accusing me of being unfaithful? Because, you’re just said it yourself, I’ve only ever-”

“I know you haven’t been with anyone else,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve wanted to, but I know you haven’t. I’m saying, I understand what you said about everyone, especially men, having urges, and-”

“Wait,” he orders.

She stops.

“What I said? When? What did I say, when did I say it, and most importantly, please, please, tell me you aren’t saying that- Actually, let’s just focus on the first two, first.”

He rubs his fingers against his temples, and she wishes she had some clue what she could have possibly said or done to cause this. In the past, she usually didn’t, but she quickly learned and knew how to avoid it in the future.

“At Castle Black. I was shelling peas, and you were talking to Jon Snow and Pyp. A man came to the wall because your father sent him there for committing adultery.”

“I don’t really remember this,” he says.

“You said, ‘I’d never force a woman, but if another woman besides my wife wanted me.’ Then, you said that people limiting themselves to one person for the rest of their life, that only the very disciplined or the uninterested could say that. That it’s the same with both men and women, it’s just much more dangerous and harder to get away with for women. Jon Snow wasn’t happy, but you said that sex isn’t always important, that there are more important parts people can share. And I know you’re right.”

He sighs. “I was right about that for some people, but not for me. Gilly, I was- I was so young back then. I didn’t have a clue what- about anything involving love back then. I helped you get your baby to safety, and honestly, I kept expecting you to take him somewhere safe and leave.”

“You took me. That makes me yours.”

After so many years, she’d really think he’d finally come to understand this, but he hasn’t, and worse, he has the oddest look on his face. She’s not sure what exactly he’s thinking, but she knows it’s something she won’t like.

“Oh, gods,” he mutters. Getting up, he goes to sit on the couch, and when she follows, he moves before she can touch him.

“How am I any different from Craster?”

Utterly confused, she says, “You’re different in every way imaginable.”

“Apparently not! You have all these ideas, ideas that I should have paid more attention to, and this isn’t how things should work. I’m sorry, but it’s not. People aren’t things to be taken. To be owned. How is you being mine any different from being his?”

It’s not funny in the slightest, but she almost laughs. Thankfully, she manages to stop herself.

Sitting down on the floor near his legs, she answers, “Because, I wanted someone to take me. I begged you and Jon Snow, and if I thought it might have worked, I’d’ve begged the others. If Craster had decided to give me away, that would have been the kindest thing he ever did. I’d never let anyone take me from you, and you should know by now that I’m never going to let you give me away.”

He gives her a startled look.

Climbing up onto the couch, she takes his hand. “You don’t own me, Sam. When you sang to me and baby Sam, I knew I’d made the right choice in asking you for help. At Mole’s Town, when the wildlings came, besides praying me and the baby would get out alive, all I thought about was you. You’ve made me do things I didn’t want but never like Craster. Every time we’ve kissed and touched, I’ve wanted it. I’ve told you when I didn’t, and just like I’ve always listened, so have you, without making me feel bad.”

Sighing, he squeezes her hand.

“Gilly, all the things I said, for some people, they are true. I suppose I thought I was one of them. But once we made love, I was just as much yours as you are mine. I don’t want to touch anyone else. Before, I was worried about men touching you and you not wanting it, but now, the thought of you wanting and doing that, it would hurt more than you can imagine. There’ve been women I found pretty, but if they’d offered, I would have said no and gotten away as fast as I could. You see, the thing is, I don’t need additional experience to know that no one even comes close to you.”

She looks into his eyes, and seeing the truth causes all different sorts of emotions inside her. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. Some people, they’re lucky enough to find the person who’s everything they’ll ever want and need the first time around. That’s me.”

“Sam, I love you,” she announces. “I love you, Sam.”

He gasps, and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look happier. “I love you, too.”

They’re kissing, she’s on top of him, and when he says, “We- we still need to talk about-”

“Later, Sam,” she demands as her hand finds what it’s searching for.

“Yes, later is, oh, later,” he agrees.

…

“In the future, we need to talk about this sort of thing when it happens, not years down the line.”

Pressing closer against him, she says, “Nothing happened. I wasn’t- we weren’t together like this when you said that. And not for us, but I know you’re right about some people being like that and them not necessarily being wrong or bad because they are.”

“You’ve been afraid for years I’d be with someone else in such a way.”

“I haven’t been afraid,” she replies. “I didn’t like the thought, but I’d still love and want you even if you did.”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy in anyway. If I can possibly do something to make you happier, I want to, but if you don’t tell me things like this, there’s a good chance I’m not going to know.”

“I want to marry you,” she lets herself say. “In a godswood, at night, with little Sam there. And I want you to see if he can be called Sam Tarly.”

“Truly?”

Propping herself up, she nods.

Smiling, he touches her cheek. “Then, let’s get married.”

Nodding, she kisses him.

“I’ll talk to Jon. I won’t appeal directly to the dragon queen, but if he or she can have him declared a Tarly, we’ll have it done.”

She suddenly realises, and she feels him realising, too: They’d completely forgotten about little Sam. He was supposed to be back about, she looks at the nearby clock, an hour ago.

It’s unlikely something bad happened to him, but- at best, whoever brought him by heard or saw something, knew or took a guess at what was happening, and got him away. At worst, he himself saw something, and she knows how much Sam has been dreading having to explain how babies are made to him.

In truth, she’s not sure he doesn’t already have some idea, and even if he doesn’t, she doesn’t think it’d be either interesting or shocking to him. He likes being around the animals outside, and just because he’s never said anything, there’s a good chance he’s seen them breeding. Besides, he has both girl and boy friends, but he’s never shown a deeper interest than friendship in any of them.

Still, she forgot her son, and this isn’t good.

“We’d better get dressed,” he groans.

“Right.”

…

It turns out, Bran Stark told Ser Pod not to take little Sam to their room.

She’s both grateful and unnerved, but whereas she’s more unnerved, Sam is more grateful.

As soon as they tell little Sam, he’s running to his grandmother’s room and probably waking the whole castle in the process.

Sam gives her a look, and she’ll admit, he does get this from her.

When they catch up to him, Lady Melessa hugs her, and then, Sam. “This is wonderful news. Sam, oh, I’m so proud of you, my sweet boy. And Gilly, thank you. Thank you for making him so happy. It’s going to be such an honour having you as my daughter.”

…

“Gilly,” Sansa prods.

She takes a closer look at the fabrics. “They’re both very nice?”

Sighing, Sansa shakes her head. “Just tell me whether the primary colour will be white or not, and I’ll decide what you’ll wear. On your wedding.”

She sees absolutely nothing objectionable about this plan, and she’s not sure why Sansa seems to.  

“Primary colour?”

“Many brides wear white, either cream or ivory, but the gown can have designs composed of other colours on it, and of course, there’s accessories.”

“White means virginity.”

“White means purity, and we both know that a person doesn’t have to be a virgin to be pure of heart,” Sansa firmly declares.

“I like silver. That’s the primary colour one of the dresses Sam’s sister gave me.”

Sansa nods. “That’s a little bit of a start.”

“Do you think-” She trails off.

Studying her intently, Sansa takes her hand. “Gilly, if you’ve decided marrying him isn’t what you want, there’s still time to say no. You just need to do it quickly. I’ll help you. Once you are married, though, it’s much harder to do anything about.”

“I don’t know how to be a Southern wife, never mind a lord’s. I’m not a virgin, people here might consider me a bastard, my son-” She abruptly stops herself.

Giving her a small smile, Sansa says, “He’s a Tarly, now. Whether you marry his father or not, that won’t ever change.”

“That doesn’t change the other facts.”

“I meant to ask you, are you sure about this new man you want me to employ? He seems a decent, honest man, but-”

Half-wishing they could get back to the other topic, Gilly assures her, “He’s the best person for the job, and you can afford his services. If you’re going to hold Winterfell, you need a set of human eyes to double-check the household budget. Even with the abacus, mistakes can happen, and even though it’s best to go out and talk to the common folk year-round, when you can’t a decent, honest man who can speak plain is the best one to send in your place. Besides this, he helped me trade a crate of human-raised hares for some strong horses from that Free Folk settlement in the woods. Come the end of the year, he’s going to see if he can trade some of your mules for-”

She stares, and Sansa simply gives her a fond look.

“You’ve been teaching me,” she realises aloud.

“I wasn’t sure what to make of you when you first came, but I knew how essential Sam was to my brother. Then, I saw three important things: You and Sam loved each other, you were a hard worker, and you were smart. Ignorance isn’t the same as unintelligence. You just needed someone to help you fit into his world and mine a little more.”

Kissing her cheek, Sansa finishes, “You’re going to make a wonderful wife, Gilly, and Horn Hill is very lucky for the new lady it’s going to get.”

…

The gown Sansa had made is blue and silver with white designs.

Finishing with the hair decorations, Sansa says, “Your mother’s ready, little one.”

Showing off his missing teeth, Sam holds out his hand, and she takes it.

Outside, the moon is clear, and the stars are bright.

In the godswood, Sam is standing in front of a heart tree, and she briefly wonders what younger her would have thought if someone told her she’d one day find herself about to be married to the kindest, smartest, most handsome man she’d ever meet.

The septon steps forward. “Who brings this woman before the old and new gods this night?”

“I’m Sam Tarly, son of Samwell, and I bring my mother here to give her to my father in marriage,” Sam clearly announces.

Pride overwhelms her, and she kisses his head.

“And does Samwell Tarly claim this woman as his wife?”

Stepping forward, Sam takes her hand. “Her name is Gilly, and yes, I claim her as mine, declare myself hers, and thank our son for his blessings. I ask the gods, old and new, to extend theirs as well.”

“Gilly, do you agree with these words?”

“Yes,” she answers. “Yes, I claim Sam as mine, declare myself his, and thank our son for his blessings. I ask the gods, old and new, to extend theirs as well.”

Nodding, the septon says, “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Sam takes his cloak off, and as he puts it on her, she touches his hand, and if she had any doubts he was as happy as she is, his face would banish them.

Joining their hands, the septon wraps a ribbon around them. “Samwell Tarly and Gilly, face each other.”

They do.

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Look upon each other and say the words.”

“Gods of old and gods of new,” they both say.

“I am his.”

“I am hers.”

“And he is mine.”

“And she is mine.”

“From this day, until my last day,” they finish.

“Let it be known that Samwell and Gilly Tarly are one heart, one flesh, one soul. In the sight of the old and new gods, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” As he’s untying the ribbon, he finishes, “Cursed be any who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Smiling with tears in his eyes, Sam says, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

She feels her own tears falling as he kisses her, and she silently pledges all she is and will be to him and their son.


End file.
